A Lot of Things Can Change in a Day
by fatheartsarewhatcounts
Summary: "Back to the beginning. Well, not exactly the beginning, more the beginning of the end. And I know if you heard me saying something as morbid as that, you'd tell me to get over myself. I know, Beca. I know I'm still alive and my life is still going. But the thing is, it's really not."


**Chloe's POV**

The last time I saw you was on a Friday.

Up until now, Fridays have always been my favourite day of the week. School is over. The whole weekend is in front of me, full of possibilities and excitement. And there was also the added fact that Bellas rehearsals were on Friday, so it didn't hurt that Fridays were also the days when I got my Beca fix, either (and I know you'd scoff at me calling it that, but really, that's the best way to describe how you made me feel).

But now, Friday is my least favourite day of the week. I hate it. I hate everything it's associated with. Because there's no excitement in my life anymore. The butterflies that used to whirl around in my stomach whenever you looked at me are long dead. And the hope that used to stir to life in my chest whenever you texted me, wanting to hang out, well I haven't felt that…. Since. But then again, there's a lot of things I haven't felt since you.

The funny thing is, you used to tease me for how happy I always was. You'd poke fun at my constant grins and laugh at the fact that I was one of those people who found silver linings in anything. Ironically, if you were here, you wouldn't have anything left to tease me about. That's all gone now. But, I guess the point is, you're the reason it's gone.

I miss you all the time. Every minute of every hour there's this hollow void in my chest and try though I may to find even one second of relief, I can't. I can't distract myself. I can't hide it. I can't function knowing you're not in the world, that you'll never again deliver your sarcastic remarks and that your beautiful face will never again twist into that dry smirk I used to love so much.

Anyway, back to the beginning. Well, not exactly the beginning, more the beginning of the end. And I know if you heard me saying something as morbid as that, you'd tell me to get over myself. I know, Beca. I know I'm still alive and my life is still going. But the thing is, it's really not. Now, it's like the brilliant realms of colour that used to flavour the world are gone, everything replaced with a hollow black and white that doesn't show the brightness in things, although somehow, still manages to let the dark greys and charcoal blacks of the emptiness seep through.

The memory I hold onto most is your smile. I remember it clearly. The last time I saw it. The first time I saw it. Because the thing with you was, even though you'd smile all the time, you had this real grin that you saved for rare occasions, buried under all these walls that you were so famous for. The first time I caught a glimpse of that genuine smile that was so unique to you and so very beautiful was, funnily enough, on a Friday. It was after you'd come back to all of us in your room, waiting for your return from jail. You came through the door with a small grin on your face and delivered a few cheesy jokes that were layered with aca-language and I giggled to see that you were turning into one of us- the stupid nerds in the corny flight attendant uniforms. Anyway, I asked you about your mixes and that's when it happened. Your face lit up with the brightest smile I'd ever seen and I swear, my heart stopped for a second there. Your passion for music and the way it made you feel was out in the open, and for a few split seconds, it was like all your walls had fallen to the ground and I was looking into the real you. That glorious moment was quickly ruined of course, by Aubrey nonetheless. I remember being so mad that Aubrey had but in, because this unknown side of you was so beautifully enchanting and I just wanted to spend hours on end delighting in it.

The last time I saw that marvellous grin of yours was a Friday, like I said. I remember every moment of that day with absolute clarity and I'm sure I always will- because that's the day that everything changed.

It was a year after I'd graduated. I lived close to campus and you'd taken to coming over all the time and eating the measly amount of food I could afford on a just starting out teacher's budget. You said it was to escape Kimmy Jin, groaning at how you'd been lumped with her for a second year in a row, a thing that shouldn't even be legal. Whatever it was, I really didn't mind. I loved your company, especially the fact that those smiles of yours that were like drugs to me were coming more and more frequently and sometimes we'd talk for hours on end about anything and everything, and I could feel myself silently picking away at your barriers. One night (the Thursday _before_), we stayed up discussing things into the wee hours of the morning and the difference in you was so tangible that I knew in that moment I'd finally done it. You slept in my arms that night. I said it was silly for you to be walking back to campus that late, that it wasn't safe, so you stayed. You were going to crash on the couch but I didn't let you. You got to sleep before I did and wound your arms around me without waking. I knew that it was probably weird and creepy, but I liked the feeling of being close to you so much that I didn't do anything.

The next morning, I woke up to you pattering around in my kitchen. You spent so much time there back then that it was basically your own and you almost knew it better than I did. You were making toast for us both since you couldn't cook, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. Plus, watching you move around my kitchen in nothing but one of my old, oversized t-shirts wasn't too bad either. It was kind of great.

You left at nine thirty a.m.- you had a class and had vowed to actually be present for them this year. Anyway, we hugged goodbye, and when you pulled away, I caught a glimpse of it again. That astonishingly stunning beam of yours. After you left, I had to sit down for a few seconds to try to remember how to breathe.

That was the last time I ever saw you.

And every night, as I lay in my bed before sleep, I curse myself for not watching you walk down the path. Because those were the last few moments that you were in my life, really tangibly there in my life, not just a memory, and I let them slip through my fingers. I hate that fact.

But back to that dreaded Friday. After my heart restarted, I went to the kitchen for coffee. You'd already made me a cup that morning but, being me, I needed at least another two before my day would really start. I found a note from you taped to the machine. Chuckling because you knew me so well, I picked it up to see that there was a CD in a cheap, plastic case accompanied by a piece of paper with your messy handwriting scrawled across it.

_Chloe Beale. _It read.

_I know that it's the twenty first century now and letter writing is basically extinct, but there's just some things that I would ruin if I tried to say them to your face. And they're pretty important things so I figured that this was the best idea. _

_I just want to start by saying thank you. Thank you for sticking with me, even when I pushed you away, thank you for being the one person that was always there for me, always believing in me, no matter what. Thank you so very much for knowing just how much I needed you, despite the front I put up, and thank you for persevering against all logic and breaking down my walls._

_You arrived into my life and, like that tornado in that stupid "classic" movie you made me watch with all the witches and those weird shoes, turned everything upside down. God, I know, you're probably cringing as you read this. The whole "nothing is the same since I met you" thing is so incredibly cliché. But honestly, that's kind of how I feel. My life has been so much warmer since you bounded into it and I've found myself doing things I never would have, and it's pretty great._

_So, that being said, I'd like to get to the point. That is, I want to tell you (or should I say write you) something. I… I'm in love with you. And don't worry, I'm not going to get all queer balls and say shit like, "I knew from the moment I met you," because honestly, I didn't. I didn't know exactly since the start but I think it was always there; there's always been a tangible connection between us, pulsing like electricity and wrapping itself around me, like it's setting every nerve of my body on fire with nothing but a touch from you. _

_And to be honest, I don't expect you to share my feelings. It's perfectly reasonable for me to expect you to have a romantic interest that isn't me, and I totally get that. You're smart and beautiful and caring and warm and just so much more than anyone else I've met. So of course, if my undying passion (I'm laying it on thick here) is unrequited, I don't want you to feel guilty. I'm a big girl and I can handle it. I just thought that I should let you know either way._

_Now, to the second part of this. Assuming you've seen the CD attached to this (which, considering you do in fact have eyes, you probably have), you're probably wondering what's going on with that. It's a mix CD for you. Expressing my feelings. Whatever. That's not really the point. The thing about it is that I've done absolutely nothing to that song. I haven't touched it. That's the big deal. I didn't change any parts of it, even if there were some bits of it that I could have improved. This song is for you because it represents how I feel about you. You are absolutely perfect, and wacky sometimes, but really… you're so great, Beale. And never, in a million years, would I change anything about you. You're my own personal Ruby Sparks. You're the girl of my dreams that somehow, by some magical miracle, is actually real, a thing I'm glad for every day._

_So, to end this incredibly long letter (really, it's nothing but rambling and I'm sorry to subject you to it), I just want to tell you again- I love you. Just to make sure you know for sure._

_Ok. _

_Beca. _

So that was the first pivotal part of the day. As I read it, I could feel so much more colour seeping through the cracks of my life and already, everything was quickly looking more and more beautiful. I hastened to put the CD in, and pressed play. There was exactly one song on the disc and it was none other than "You Make My Dreams" by Hall & Oates. Every note in that song was a symphony, every word a poem. I listened to it through six times, sitting on the couch and basking in the newfound happiness, but also trying to believe it was real. Beca Mitchell, you had stolen my heart long before that and it was hard for me to come to terms with the fact that there was even a chance you might feel the same way.

But you did.

I realised that soon enough.

Of course, later on, I found out that "soon enough" in this situation turned out to be "too late".

When I finally got my act together, I tried your cell. No answer. Maybe you were just caught up in your mixes, I thought, trying again. Still nothing.

So I got dressed and drove to your dorm. You weren't there. I drove back to my house, the nerves that were like someone twisting my insides around growing more uncomfortable with each passing minute. In hindsight, I could sort of tell something was wrong, but in the moment, I think I was so overcome with feelings of absolute elation that I didn't stop to wonder.

I had to go to work at eleven, so I figured ok, I'd just catch up with you after work and tell you then. God knew you'd probably be at my house waiting for me when I got home. You did have your own key, after all.

Wrong.

Very wrong.

Instead of you being there, there was Aubrey, standing in my lounge room with tears glistening in her eyes as she told me the news.

After that, with a jolt, all the colour was gone. All the light was gone, all the joy, whatever you want to call it. The point is, you were suddenly out of my life, just like that, and my world was crashing down around my shoulders.

I collapsed after she told me, stammering a teary explanation about the bus hitting you and there being nothing anyone could have done. She stepped forward to wrap her arms around me, but before she could get to me, I was on the floor because my knees had given out. There was liquid seeping down my cheeks. I think it was my tears.

No. That was all I could think. No. That couldn't be true.

There had to be a mistake.

You were not possibly dead, Beca, because I was going to tell you I loved you.

We were going to be together. I was finally going to be really, truly happy after all these years and we were going to grow old and have kids together.

That simply wasn't fair.

All of this felt like some surreal nightmare that I was watching from the outside. I was numb, detached, like I'd left my body and was watching the hollow shell of myself stumble through trying to get over you.

It had to have been a nightmare.

Because you were _the one_. You still are, really.

And you were going to come save me from the nightmarish hell I was living, like it said in the song. I just had to be patient.

_On a night when bad dreams become a screamer_

_When they're messin' with the dreamer_

_I can laugh it in the face_

_Twist and shout my way out_

_And wrap yourself around me_

_'Cause I ain't the way that you found me_

_I'll never be the same_

_'Cause You make my dreams come true_

So I spent months, waiting for you to come back and save me. Two hundred and fifty two days I spent sitting on my couch, expecting you to waltz through my front door at any minute, chuckling in that way you did that was music to my ears.

I lost my job.

I lost my friends. They tried to come around in the beginning, but they couldn't get a response from me and eventually gave up.

And I just sat there, the song you gave me constantly playing on repeat in the back of my head, except a contorted and sort of ruined version where all the happiness of the song was slowly seeping out in time with my hope.

And then one day, I finally got up. Something had clicked in me and I knew it was all over, that you weren't coming back. I walked to my car and drove to the cliffs nearby. I exited my vehicle, and walked quickly to the edge. I didn't waste any time savouring it because really, my life had already ended. It stopped the day you ceased to exist so when I stepped off the cliff and fell into the nothingness below, I didn't feel anything except a sense of relief. I was finally free. The nightmare was finally ending. I was finally going to see you again.

A faint whisper left my lips as I fell.

"I love you too, Beca. I always have and I always will."

And then I hit the rocks, and there was nothing.


End file.
